


Literally one collective brain cell among them

by Poompoom



Category: Ghosts (TV 2019)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 14:07:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poompoom/pseuds/Poompoom
Summary: Forulated on the Ghiscord, badly written by me.Mike tries to communicate with the ghosts, but that’s really doffficult when your wife, who can speak to them, is at ASDA





	Literally one collective brain cell among them

**Author's Note:**

> Not spellchecked this or anything.

Alison had gone shopping; Mike was alone. Well, not technically. For all he knew, the half-restored drawing room of Button House could be swarming with the forever-trapped souls of the dead. One of which had no trousers (and a first from Cambridge).

As much as he listened to his wife tiredly recount information about them during sleepless summer nights (often with a few variations of ‘Get out, Kitty’ strung throughout), he never felt he really knew these ghosts. How could he? At one point, Mike had considered writing down everything he knew about each of them in a notebook in order to keep up a conversation with Alison, but never had the energy to bother. Restoring the house often left him drained.  
Sometimes he knew Alison wanted to shop alone because she was so tired of conversing with the resident undead all the time. He didn’t blame her, and was sure that his constant yabbering sometimes added to the problem. 

Taking a sip of his lukewarm (and slightly rusty) tea, Mike caught sight of the MacBook, which was half open. He remembered seeing keys being pressed by invisible fingers and finally accepting Alison’s post-coma ‘hallucinations’ as being hauntingly real. Seeing was believing, after all - even if what he saw in comparison to his wife was trivial. 

This recollection sparked an idea in his head. Sometimes, Mike had good ideas. He was still deciding whether restoring Button House almost singlehandedly was one or not.  
The idea currently swirling around his brain like rusty tea-water concerned communication with the ghosts.

“Um, Hello?”

Even though he knew no one living was within earshot, he still felt a little awkward, thus faltering. He mustered up the courage and roared loud enough for his shouts to be carried through the walls. 

“GHOSTS? PLEASE COUKD YOU COME HERE?”

The feeling of stupidity subsided. Mike waited for about ten seconds and announced into the empty room:

“Hi, I hope you’re all here.”

He had no way of telling whether he was alone or not. Gesturing to the computer, he continued.

“I thought it might be fun for us to be able to communicate. Might surprise Alison. One of you can type. I think it’s Julian, is it? Is he here?

While he talked, Mike’s eyes darted across the room. There was nobody to look at, but for all he knew, dozens of eyes could be trained on him. He caught from the corner of his eye a tiny movement coming from the mug of rusty tea. With a high pitched noise, it slowly dragged itself across the table, gaining a little speed. It then promptly fell off, where the metallic dregs seeped into the dusty floorboards.

“Hellooo, Julian.” he said uncertainly.

Crouching down to the mac again, Mike opened a Word document. 

“Ask me something you want to know, ghosts.”

Even though he’d seen it before, Mike watched in wonder as words slowly typed themselves up. 

OTHER GHOSTS ARE ANNOYING. 

Then,

TELL THEM TO FUCK OFF.

“Uhhh... guys could you leave Julian in peace? Not sure what’s going on as I-“

He gestured around his eyes.

“-clearly can’t see what you lot are doing.” 

With a strange straining sound, the lights in the lamps on the walls flickered. Either there was another problem to add to this complete money pit of a house, or this was another attempt at contact from the other side.

“Was that one of you lot?”

The typing began again. 

ROBIN. HE CAN CONTROL LIGHTS.

“Oh, sick.”

Now he remembered; Alison must have mentioned it somewhere. 

“Might be more efficient for me to use this as a way of communication, mate. Sorry if that’s-“

More typing, and a bit more fervently this time.

DO NOT LEAVE DECISION MAKING TO THE CAVEMAN. I AM CAPABDHDHs:?.?:)17dhfH

The keysmash had happened all at once, which was very different to the slow reveal of the usual typing. 

“Right, caveman- one flicker for yes, two flickers for no. Is Julian having an aneurysm right now?”

Two flashes from the lights.

“This is like Stranger Things!” Mike said to himself, before realising every dead person could probably hear it. 

DEAD PEOPLE CANT HAVE ANEURYSMS

came the eventual reply from the computer screen.

ROBIN PUSHED ME

ROBIN IS A BASTARD.

HE CANT READ SO I CAN INSULT HIM

KITTY DONT READ IT OUT TO :):£/shdjDHDJFNsjdjdjfnturns out robin also learned to read. 

Mike could just imagine the sort of argument they were all having right now. He was no stranger to Alison talking about how they didn’t need children because she had more than a half dozen dead men-children of her own. 

“If Robin can read, does he know morse code?”

Two flickers. Negative.

“Oh, it’s a language you can use to communicate with sounds or light. I did scouts when I was younger, and I still remember it all now, cos and the guys from school used it to cheat in our- whatever. Anyway, is the military guy with you?”

One flicker.

“What even is his name? The captain? Captain who?”

From the computer came more slow tying.

HE DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNKW THAT HIS REAL NAME IS SHDshdhsgdjDHDJF DHDH sorry

“Alright, I don’t care. Stop throwing yourselves onto the keyboard. It might damage it... from the next dimension, or something. Whatever. Can you teach him for me? Could be interesting. You’ve got like, all of eternity to learn. I can print out a sheet and stick it on the wall so you can learn the letters.”

An hour, a sheet of A4, and a new cup of tea later, Mike saw the light begin to flash rhythmically. 

-... --- ---

Mike let out a laugh in the middle of he empty room. 

“God I wish I could hang out with you guys.”

I COUDL ALWAYS PUSH YOU OUT WINDOW AS WELL ?

Halfway through a chuckle, he stopped. 

“Wait. Julian, that means you did what?”


End file.
